Goldilocks and the Threesome
by witchybelle4u2
Summary: Jim, Bones and Spock are planning a little quality time - but they have an unexpected visitor in the form of young Chekov... Will he ruin their weekend getaway? Or will they ruin him? Rated M for sexual content. Some light-hearted slash...
1. Chapter 1

_Many thanks to my beta, Galxychld, for helping me keep Spock in check! :) You're a star!_

Goldilocks and the Threesome:

Part One:

Maintaining a stable relationship within Starfleet could be hard work – some likened it to negotiating with Klingons. Arranging shore leave together for a little 'quality time' could be even harder. When it involved the ship's captain, chief science officer and chief medical officer, it was that much harder to keep a relationship going – and getting shore leave together was damned near impossible.

Even when they _did _somehow manage to get away together, it never seemed to last long enough. There was always _something_, some disaster or conflict that required their immediate attention. It was always the same: months of juggling schedules and careful planning, gone in the blast of a photon torpedo.

It was always nice to be needed, of course, but sometimes a boy – or three – just wanted to get laid without having to sneak around or rush to do it. Sex on a medibed was only exciting the first twenty times. Even quickies in the turbo lift got dull after – Well, quickies in the turbo lift _never _got dull. But they _could _be exhausting – especially while pulling double shifts.

After three or four botched attempts at a romantic getaway, the three gentlemen in question decided that drastic measures were called for. They would plan a _secret _getaway, making sure no one knew how to reach them. And if disaster should strike the ship in their absence? Well, the remaining crew members would just have to find a way to cope without them – and hope that they didn't lose too many red shirts in the meantime.

"Captain? A word, please."

"Certainly, Mr. Spock. What can I do for you?"

Spock raised one dark eyebrow but didn't speak until the yeoman had passed and they were alone in the hallway.

"Shall I make a list?"

Jim grinned and swatted his lover playfully on the arm. He knew that if he said, "yes," Spock _would _actually make a list – possibly with diagrams. If he wasn't so strapped for time...

"Seriously, Spock," he said, "I'm already late for a meeting."

"I was wondering if you have found a satisfactory solution to our... problem."

Jim laughed. "You don't have to be coy," he said, "There's no one else around."

Spock's nostrils flared but he resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. "Jim," he said, "As we have previously discussed – on several occasions and in great detail – the likelihood of our shore leave being disrupted increases exponentially with every person who learns of it. That was why we agreed -"

Jim placed a finger against Spock's lips to silence him. "No one is going to find out."

"I feel I must point out," Spock's lips continued to move against Jim's finger, "That discussing our plans in the open in this manner is almost certain to-"

Deciding his finger wasn't doing the work properly, Jim leaned in and silenced Spock with a quick kiss.

"It's been taken care of," he promised.

But Spock was not so easily swayed. "Forgive me for sounding skeptical," he said, "But if I recall correctly, the _last _time you uttered those words, Leonard wound up tied to a tree on Risa covered in-"

Jim grabbed him and attempted to kiss him senseless. With a Vulcan, that took a whole lot of kissing. He pressed Spock up against the wall, sliding a knee suggestively between the other man's legs.

"Trust me," he urged. He left a trail of light kisses along Spock's jawline as he rocked his hips against him.

"Jim..."

"You do-" Kiss, kiss. Grind. "Trust me," Kiss, kiss. Grind. "Don't you?" He finished by nibbling on the tip of Spock's oversensitive ear – a trick that he knew would drive the Vulcan wild. Spock, predictably, while arching his back in pleasure, still attempted some level of control.

"Yes!" he ground out between clenched teeth.

Jim laughed, a husky, satisfied sound. He didn't know for sure whether Spock was agreeing with him or just crying out but it didn't matter. Either way, he'd won.

He broke the kiss and took a step back, enjoying the way Spock blinked rapidly, struggling to bring the world back into focus.

"See you tomorrow then!"

Under normal circumstances, Jim would love to stay and watch Spock wrestle to control his rising passion but, thanks to a surprise "medical examination" from Dr. McCoy, he really was late. He started to walk away but had taken only a few steps before Spock called him back.

"Jim?"

He looked back to where Spock still leaned against the wall, his dark eyes burning with desire. Jim stayed right where he was. If he went back now, he would _never_ make it to that meeting.

"Still late, Spock."

"What is our destination?"

"Destination? Well, _I'm_ going to a meeting with the Deltan ambassador and _you're _going- "

"For our shore leave," Spock reiterated, raising one arched brow. "Where will we be traveling to for our shore leave next week?"

Well, he _had_ told him not to be coy. Still... He glanced up and down the corridor to make sure they were still alone.

"I told you," he said. "It's a surprise."

"It would be prudent to know where we are going so that proper preparations can be made." Infallible Vulcan logic, as always.

"Yes," Jim agreed. "It probably would. But it would also ruin the surprise." Spock opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Jim broke in. "And, besides," he added, lowering his voice a fraction and smoothing out the tone, "the likelihood of our shore leave being disrupted increases exponentially with every person who learns of its location."

Spock raised his eyebrows at Jim's impersonation. "I was not referring to myself when I spoke of discretion."

"You might let something slip in front of the wrong person," Jim teased, knowing full well that his straight-laced lover would do nothing of the sort. Spock never did _anything _"on accident."

"I am not the one most likely to let accidentally let something-"

"When are you getting at, Spock?"

Spock replied innocently, "Me? I am not 'getting at' anything." The Vulcan's mask of cool indifference remained firmly in place but his eyes were full of mischief.

"I am simply reminding you of the habit you sometimes develop of becoming overly loquacious after an alcoholic beverage."

"Or ten," he added under his breath.

'To hell with the meeting,' Jim thought. He stalked toward Spock purposefully, intent on dragging the man off and giving him a severe "tongue lashing" for his impudence.

"Uh... Lieutenant Commander Spock?"

They both turned to face the young officer that had somehow managed to approach without their noticing. His eyes darted nervously between the two senior officers.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Could I have your assistance? That is – uh – if you're not busy?"

"Certainly. Captain? If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course." Jim waited until they reached the turbo lift to call out, "Oh... Mr. Spock?"

Spock glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, sir?"

"I want that list on my desk by twenty one hundred hours."

"Yes, sir." The grin that lifted the corners of Spock's lips was almost imperceptible. "I will be most thorough."

"You do that." As the turbo lift doors slid shut, Jim laughed. He was still laughing as he walked away.

When the corridor was quiet, a grate swung open and Chekov poked his head out of the ventilation shaft he'd been sent to inspect. A mischievous grin spread across his face.

So... The captain was planning a romantic getaway with his boyfriends, was he? He'd see about that...


	2. Chapter 2

Goldilocks and the Threesome:

Part Two:

Hacking into the captain's personal comms was far too easy. No special skill required, one just had to know what he liked – and assume that he had the mental capacity of a horny teenager. And of course, that was Kirk to a "T".

'bigboymccoy,' Chekov tried.

ACCESS DENIED

He tried again, 'sexyspock.'

ACCESS DENIED

Hm. Chekov thought for a moment then tried again. 'luvcock.'

PERSONAL COMMUNICATIONS ACCESSED, JAMES T. KIRK.

"Ha!" Chekov punched the air in triumph. Too easy. And this guy was the captain of a starship? It almost made Chekov shudder at the state of Starfleet, except that this was too much fun.

It only took a few minutes of digging to find what he was looking for. Some top secret get away – Kirk had made all the reservations under his own name.

_Should have left it to the Vulcan_, Chekov thought.

Officially, Captain Kirk, Lt. Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy were attending a conference on interspecies relationships. According to the captain's log, however, they had their own "interspecies relationships" planned back on Earth.

It would be so easy to ruin their plans... "Accidentally" mention the wrong thing to the right person... But Chekov didn't want to _ruin_ their plans, just _disrupt_ them a bit – just to show he could.

He was the new guy, the kid. Everyone – especially Captain Kirk – overlooked him. If he was sent on an away mission, it was an afterthought. "Might as well take Chekov too." Yeah... Just in case whatever big nasty they encountered ran out of red shirts to play with.

Well, he'd show them! He would MAKE the captain notice him. Mind racing, Chekov copied the details of the trip and hurried to book himself some shore leave.

On Earth, what Jim described as a "romantic getaway" could also have been called a "boys' weekend." The one-bedroom log dwelling on the shore of a small lake that Jim referred to as their "love shack" was, in fact, his uncle's hunting cabin.

The cabin oozed masculinity. It was frill free and devoid of any of the little knick-knacks that women (for some reason) felt the need to cover every available surface with. From the hardwood floors to the worn leather sofa, it was a MAN'S cabin – perfect for getting away with the guys... NOT so perfect for a romance.

"Hey, look!" Bones said happily, stepping aside to reveal a closet stocked with fishing poles and waders. "I haven't been fishing since B.E.W."

"B.E.W.?"

"Before Ex-Wife."

Jim laughed. He was thrilled to see his lover's excitement at the prospect of fishing but secretly hoped that he would be allowed to sleep through it.

"Jim?"

He followed Spock's voice to the kitchen where he found the Vulcan peering into the fridge.

"What's wrong, Spock?"

"Are you aware that there is no food replicator in this..." he eyed the cabin with barely suppressed disdain, "dwelling? For lack of a better word," he added under his breath.

Jim and Bones exchanged an amused glance.

"Also," Spock continued, opening the fridge door wide. "This refrigerated storage device appears to be empty."

Bones, who had come up behind Jim, laughed. "That _fridge_," he drawled, "is supposed to be empty. Out here, if you want to eat, you kill it and clean it yourself."

If Spock was distressed by this piece of information, it didn't show. "That hardly seems...convenient."

The way he said it made Jim think that it wasn't his first choice of words.

"Relax, Spock," Jim told him. "You won't have to go wrestling any wild bears for our supper. There's a store a few miles up the road."

Although... to mention it... The thought of Spock – bare chested and covered in sweat – wrestling a big, angry bear certainly had its merit. Jim's thoughts immediately went from Spock wrestling angry bears to Spock wrestling Bones. They would both be dripping sweat as they rolled around on the ground, their limbs in a tangle... Jim would have to referee, of course. And if they didn't play fair, well, then he'd just have to break things up. But if they should happen to drag him down with them...

"But we should check out the rest of the house first," he said in a rush. "Especially the bedroom." He smirked at his companions, who answered with a smirk (Bones) and a raised eyebrow (Spock, of course).

The gods had not been kind, Jim thought grumpily. He sat, slumped, in the back of his uncle's fishing boat. Although it was just past seven in the morning, a cooler full of beer sat at his feet – a bribe from Bones for his cooperation.

It had seemed like a fair trade at the time: a 5AM wake-up call in exchange for a breakfast of ice cold beer. Damn Bones and his powers of persuasion! He'd made it sound like a brilliant idea, of course... And while Bones had been pleading with his mouth, his hands had been working their own kind of persuasion. It was completely unfair.

Spock sat ram-rod straight on his seat, entirely focused on the act of fishing. Bones was more relaxed - "kicked back" was the phrase – with his feet up on the edge of the boat and a ridiculous hat adorned with various tackle pulled low over his eyes. Jim suspected the good doctor was actually having a little nap. That was even more unfair – considering the trip was his idea in the first place.

Which was Jim's excuse for being less than well-behaved. Not that he really needed one…

When the boredom got to be too much, he jumped to his feet, jarring the boat. Spock glanced over his shoulder but, as usual, showed no sign of alarm. Bones, on the other hand, nearly fell out of his chair.

"What the-"

"Did you see that?" Jim exclaimed. He leaned over the edge, peering wide-eyed into the water. The boat lurched dangerously.

"See what?" Bones grumbled, trying to right his ridiculous hat.

"There was something...some _thing_ in the water!"

Spock swivelled in his chair as Bones climbed across the boat. "What sort of thing?" he asked.

Jim jumped across the boat and looked over the edge. Spock grabbed Bones to keep him from being thrown overboard when the boat rocked.

"It was... some... creature!" Jim exclaimed. He continued to stare into the murky water because he knew he wouldn't be able to look at either of his lovers at that moment without laughing and giving himself away.

"It had teeth _this_ big and its eyes glowed red. Didn't you see it? It swam right past us!"

They eyed him dubiously.

"Maybe you should lay off the booze," Bones suggested. "At least until after lunch."

Jim pretended to be insulted. "I'm not drunk!"

Spock raised one dark eyebrow. It was common knowledge that, more often than not, that statement was simply not true.

"I'm _not_!" Jim protested. "It was there! No," he said, jumping across the boat again. "It was _there_!"

Spock had to grab the edge of the boat to stay in it as the small craft shifted under Jim's weight. He glanced into the water, curiosity getting the better of him. Even Bones – who knew the lakes and ponds of Earth better than either of the other two – couldn't resist peeking to see if anything was actually there.

_Ha_! Jim thought. He had them!

As both Spock and Bones leaned further over the edge of the boat to catch a glimpse of the mysterious creature, they felt a rough shove from behind and toppled out of the boat with an enormous splash. When they surfaced, wet hair plastered to their heads and water running down their faces, they found Jim doubled over in the boat, laughing. They shared a look that normally spelled trouble for Jim. In unison, they put their shoulders against the boat and flipped it over.


	3. Chapter 3

_** My thanks go out to my betas __Galxychld_ and whatsherf8. Thanks, ladies! **  


Goldilocks and the Threesome

Part Three:

Thanks to his good friend, Mr. Scott, Chekov managed to book a shuttle craft to take him to Earth hours before the captain and his lovers were due to leave. He had not, unfortunately, thought to bring anything with him that might help him navigate the forests of Iowa with any success. A wizard with technology he might be but good at orienteering he was not.

He had intended to look around the cabin and get out, to wait outside for his chance at... well, he didn't know exactly what he planned to do but he expected to have plenty of time to hatch a plan while the three senior officers got up to... whatever three men in love got up to. But, after wasting so much time wandering in circles, he nearly got caught in the act. He dove under the bed when he heard the front door bang open.

Chekov spent a rather uncomfortable night lying, face down, on the wooden floor under that bed, waiting for his chance to sneak back out of the cabin. He hadn't dared to sleep, in case he was caught – not that he would have been able to sleep, anyway, with what was going on right above his head.

All. Night. Long.

By the time the captain and his lovers finally left, Chekov was hungry, tired – and quite possibly scarred for life. The things he'd heard! He was even more scarred by his own response to those things. Stiff and sore – and shaking off bad memories - he clambered out from under the bed and made for the exit.

Opening the front door, Chekov took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of everything that wasn't sex and dust. He was ready to say "to hell with it" and forget about his plan when his stomach rumbled, reminding him of exactly how long it had been since he'd had anything to eat. He eyed the old fashioned refrigerator in the kitchen for a long moment before making up his mind.

Breakfast was on them. He rifled through the fridge, helping himself to a little of this and a little of that, tossing empty containers and stay-fresh wrappers this way and that as he sated his hunger. A grin broke out on his face when Chekov spied the six pack on the bottom shelf – the captain's, no doubt. He helped himself to that as well.

Beer under one arm, and a plate full of food in the other hand, he headed into the living room. If Lt. Commander McCoy was anything like the other fishermen he'd known, Chekov had a few hours to kill before the men returned. Smiling to himself, he threw himself down on the sofa and clicked on the old view screen.

When Jim, Bones, and Spock returned to the cabin several hours later, it was without a single fish – and without most of their clothing. As Spock had so wisely pointed out, it was only logical to strip immediately upon reaching the shore rather than walk home in soaking wet clothes. Everything that happened after they stripped off and hung their wet things on a nearby tree limb?

Well... That was logical too – if a bit sweaty and dirty.

The trio was in good spirits when they reached the cabin. Bones' temporary funk at having his fishing trip interrupted faded quickly once Jim got on his knees to beg forgiveness. Jim could be very persuasive on his knees. And Bones enjoyed being persuaded. He really, really did.

The cabin's front door stood wide open. Upon seeing this, they all reached for their phasers which, of course, they didn't have. Instantly alert and ready to do battle, Jim bent to pick up a fallen branch and motioned for the others to follow as he slipped silently into the cabin.

Inside, Spock held up a hand for them to wait and crept into the kitchen. He returned a moment later and beckoned them in. The kitchen was a mess. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink and empty food wrappers were strewn across the counter top.

"Did either of you do this?" Spock asked. When they both shook their heads "no," he said, "Then it would appear that someone has been eating our food."

The three men made their way down the hallway into what Bones and Jim referred to as the "living room." It too was a mess. The room's small wooden table held the remnants of whatever had been cooked in the kitchen and a few empty beer bottles. Jim made a noise of dismay when he saw that the beer that _wasn't_ sitting at the bottom of the lake had already been drunk.

The ancient viewer on the wall had been left on. The image quality was rather poor but they could just make out men with a ball chasing each other around a wooden court.

"Looks like someone's been sitting on our sofa too," Bones said.

They looked toward the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar.

"Do you think someone has been sleeping in our bed too?" Jim asked, in a tone that spelled trouble for the intruder.

Together, they crept toward the bedroom. Jim reached out and pushed the door open. There, sleeping fully clothed upon the king-sized bed, was Pavel Chekov.

"What'd'ya know..." Bones drawled. "Looks like he has."

They stared in silence at the youngster for a moment before discussing his presence in hushed tones.

"Why do you think Ensign Chekov is doing here?"

"Never mind that! How the hell did he find us?"

"Jim!"

"What?"

"You _were_ the only one who knew our destination..."

"How many times have I told you about getting drunk and blabbing-"

"I don't blab!"

Their bickering was cut short by a grunt from the bed. They froze, turning their attention back to the figure there. Chekov rolled onto his side, his back to the three older men. A soft snore told them he was still asleep. Jim raised a finger to his lips and motioned for his lovers to join him in the living room.

"Never mind _why_ he's here – or whose fault it is."

Bones looked as if he wanted to say that they all knew _exactly_ who was to blame, but Jim didn't give him the chance to speak.

"The important question is: what are we going to do with him now that he's here?"

Bones suddenly let out a laugh, which made the others stare at him.

"I just had a thought. He ate our food, messed up our rooms, and is currently sleeping in our bed. But when I picture Goldilocks, Chekov just does NOT come to mind!"

Spock's eyebrows furrowed even more than usual. It took Jim just a moment to comprehend Bones before he burst out laughing, which he immediately muffled with his arm. Spock looked at him in consternation.

"Goldilocks and the Three Bears," Jim managed to get out. "It's an Earth folk tale. A child goes into a house without permission and eats the food and sleeps in the beds."

"Does it say what happened to the child as punishment for such an act?" Spock queried.

Jim shook his head, and then raised his eyebrow. "It only said she ran away. But I'm sure we could come up with something even better for our 'Goldilocks'."

The three men looked at each other and smiled.


End file.
